


As Real as it Gets

by Dark_Dreymer, FaeryQueen07



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bigender Character, Character Study, Community: pod-together, Gen, Podfic, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Dreymer/pseuds/Dark_Dreymer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he can remember, there's been this part of Leonard that he's been trying desperately not to acknowledge. He thinks if he can bury it down deep enough, then nothing is wrong with him. Trust Jim to figure him out, to piece together all the clues Leonard doesn't know he's leaving and prove there's nothing wrong with him after all. There's just more to Leonard that meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Real as it Gets

**Author's Note:**

> Author: FaeryQueen07  
> Podfic Artist: Dark-Dreymer
> 
> FaeryQueen07: If reading about a trans* character bothers you, feel free not to read. If you are looking for more information on what it means to be bigender, I encourage you to check out some of the channels on YouTube. There are a great many people out there who have chosen to share their experiences with others. All I ask is that you remember to be respectful.

  


[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/As%20Real%20as%20it%20Gets-dark_dreymer,%20faeryqueen07.mp3)  
[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/As%20Real%20as%20it%20Gets-dark_dreymer,%20faeryqueen07.m4b)

* * *

  


It’s not until Captain Christopher Pike calls him out of his second class Thursday morning to take him off-campus to a little café where Jim is already seated that Leonard thinks maybe he shouldn’t have called his last professor an idiot. He also probably should not have made his lab partner cry. There is, in fact, a long list of things Leonard should not have said or done, but he’s been on a real tear lately and he is about as capable of stopping his shitty mood as he is at bringing people back from the dead.

Now is no different, either. Belligerence forms an ugly knot in his throat, roughens up his voice and gives his words a nasty edge when he demands, “What the hell is this? A goddamn intervention?”

“Something like that, Cadet. Why don’t you have a seat? I invited Jim along as moral support.” Captain Pike doesn’t smile as he speaks, and there is a sense of foreboding in the way he settles down into his own chair. He clearly means business, and that is never a good thing in a situation like this

Dread pools in Leonard’s gut, an unwelcome guest at what is possibly his figurative Last Supper as a Starfleet Medical Academy student. With a grunt of annoyance, Leonard sits and tries not to appear too grateful when Jim pushes a tall glass of mint iced tea in front of him.

“Look,” Leonard starts, determined to make his apologies and end this. “If this is about my class this morning—”

The skin around Captain Pike’s eyes goes tight, his lips pressing into a thin line of displeasure. “This is about the last two months, Cadet McCoy, during which I have received more complaints about your attitude than I have about Cadet Kirk in the entire _last year_.”

Leonard waits for Jim to say something, to make a smart remark and laugh off the slur on his character, but when he glances over at his friend, it’s to find Jim’s expression drawn and serious. That in itself speaks volumes as to the meeting and the dire situation that prompted it.

“Sir—”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Cadet. You are one of the top students in your year, let alone your field, and until recently, you were one of the most likely candidates for immediate promotion to Chief Medical Examiner upon graduation. Starfleet and the Federation would be sorry to lose someone of your skill level and dedication, but we also have a commitment to the rest of our students, professors and staff. I speak for them when I say—”

“I don’t need a goddamn lecture, Captain,” Leonard cuts in.

He’s got a whole lot more to say on the subject, but a swift kick from Jim has him breaking off with a curse. The expression on Jim’s face—a mixture of anger and pity—comes as a shock to Leonard. Over the course of the last year, only Jim has withstood Leonard’s acerbic wit and the constant flux of his moods. The thought that Jim might be on the other side, might no longer stand behind him, terrifies Leonard. “I think what Bones means to say is that he is very sorry and promises to be on better behaviour from here on out.”

As he speaks, Jim’s knee bumps against Leonard’s and stays there, a reassuring weight that shifts some of the heaviness in Leonard’s chest. It relaxes him enough that Leonard can sit back in his seat and let Jim take control of the conversation. He drifts in and out of a passively agitated state as they order, bites back every cutting remark that dances on the tip of tongue and finds comfort in the knowledge that tonight, after all this is done, Jim will be there with him as Leonard attempts to drink away his shame and guilt.

Just a little more than halfway through the meal, Captain Pike takes his leave, the rest of his food boxed up and set aside to be left for the homeless who come by after hours. Leonard watches him go with remorseless relief, then pushes his plate away, too unsettled to finish eating. Everything is already paid for courtesy of the academy, but Jim drops a hefty tip on the table, half collected from Leonard, then picks up two helmets from under his chair and offers one to Leonard. As they make their exit, Jim sticks close, guides him out by the elbow, as though worried Leonard might make a break for it at a moment’s notice.

The return to the academy is a quiet affair. They walk to the parking lot where Jim’s pride and joy awaits them, and only the exhaustion running deep into Leonard’s bones keeps him from running his usual gauntlet of motorcycle-riding hazards. The only other option is to walk back to the campus, and Leonard is not up for it even on a good day. He sits astride the machine, tucked in close behind Jim, and a thrill of delight zips through him as the motorcycle purrs to life. Despite his complaints, Leonard is fond of the bike; the memory of Jim’s beaming grin when he sank the game-winning ball into the corner pocket and the pink slip of paper exchanging hands warms him.

Leonard stays silent as they drive off, the sharp prick of Captain Pike’s words still stinging. He knows he should have said more, or even tried to explain, but the truth is, not even Leonard really knows what is going on. He says as much after they have pulled up in front of the medical school dorms. He isn’t sure why, doesn’t know how he expects Jim to respond to such an open-ended statement, but it is not the passive hum of acknowledgement he gets.

Inside, Jim pours them each a tumbler of scotch, a tad more generous with Leonard’s helping than his own. By Leonard’s third refill, his tongue is sufficiently loose and by the fifth, the words are pouring out of him, a tangled up mess of rough consonants and drawled out vowels that make little sense to Leonard even as he says them. He loses track of each sentence, knows he confuses the topic at least half a dozen times and he’s already half-forgotten what he’s said by the time Jim grins at him, sad and soft.

“It’s almost two o’clock in the morning, Bones. How about you sleep off your liver poisoning for the night?”

“I—” Leonard pauses, gaze drifting over to the clock and nods, unsure of what it was they were even talking about. He was lucky when he signed up for classes and doesn’t have anything for Friday, but that doesn’t stop the nagging sensation that something heavy is looming. It’s hard enough remembering what the hell they were talking about five minutes ago, but trying to recall events that have yet to pass proves impossible. He reaches for his glass, thinks maybe at some point he started drinking just for the sole purpose of forgetting, but when he opens his mouth to ask Jim about it, he yawns instead, his jaw cracking.

“Right,” Leonard says, falling backwards onto the bed. “Time for sleep.”

He closes his eyes, shifts around until he’s comfortable, and mumbles out a ‘thank you’ when the lights turn off.

****

*.*.*.*

Leonard wakes to a pounding headache and the certainty that, even though he can’t remember any details through the fog of too much alcohol, he said way too much last night. This is confirmed when he opens his eyes to find Jim watching him, the typical mischievous glint in his eyes replaced by something sharp and assessing, his mouth turned down in a serious frown. It leaves Leonard feeling over-exposed and defensive.

“Now look,” Leonard begins, voice rough, gravelled by too much Scotch and not enough sleep.

That is as far as Jim lets him go. He shakes his head and stands, voice low in consideration to Leonard’s hangover.

“I’ve got class in twenty minutes, but I wanted to make sure you were still alive before leaving. I—uh, I’ve got some errands to do this weekend, so I probably won’t be around, but I’ll catch up with you at some point.” He glances out the window, squints at the sun just beginning to peek through the blinds. “You should get some more rest and try not to worry too much. It’ll all work out.”

The tight pull at the corners of Jim’s mouth belie his easy tone, and it sets Leonard on edge. He can sense a subtle shift in the dynamics of their relationship; Jim is armed with information Leonard can only guess at, and it gives him the upper hand, leaves Leonard cut adrift from the control he usually maintains.

After Jim leaves, Leonard takes a moment to assess the situation. He’s on academic probation, Jim deliberately got him plastered on very expensive liquor and quite possibly unearthed secrets Leonard has spent the last fifteen years not acknowledging, let alone understanding, and he is so supremely hung over that going back to sleep is the only viable option. It’s as his eyes are closing that he notices the hypo lying on the bedside table, a tall glass of water still sweating next to it. It’s tempting to pretend he didn’t see it, to wallow in his misery for as long as possible, but he would only be lying to himself and Leonard has already done enough of that recently.

It takes less than five minutes for the meds to kick in, which means Jim either filched the hypo from the medical school supply himself or conned one of the nurses into giving him one. Either way, Leonard appreciates Jim’s determination to always have the best available for his friends. On occasion, Leonard has taken advantage of his access to medical equipment to hide the evidence of Jim’s bar fights, so they are more or less on even ground as far as owing one another goes.

Once sitting upright is no longer impossible and real movement ceases to make his head spin, Leonard stumbles his way down the hall to the shared bathroom and strips off yesterday’s clothes. His preferred shower stall is the one at the very end because the water is always hot, even when he’s the last one to get there in the evenings, but the stall that produces only tepid water is closer, and that means more in his current state. He washes quickly, scrubs away dust from the ride back on Jim’s motorcycle and jerks off simply to ease some of the tension cramping the muscles in his legs and back. When he’s done, Leonard wraps one of the bath towels around his waist, gathers up his dirty clothes and returns to his room where he sprawls out on his bed.

He should get up and go to the library. Three of his classes have tests next week and Leonard is of the belief that one can never be too prepared to have their ass handed to them, but the library is on the other side of the campus, and while he no longer feels one step away from death, he still has no motivation to be an active participant in his own life. He has all weekend to study, and right now, Leonard wholeheartedly believes he has earned a break.

He dozes until late afternoon, when his stomach wakes him with its persistent grumbling. He tries to comm Jim but after a few minutes of nothing but static, gives up. Jim is either in class or with someone, a common enough occurrence that Leonard isn’t too worried about the lack of response.

Hunger motivates him into action. Leonard drags on a clean uniform and dampens his hair with a water bottle, patting it down into place. There’s a crease on his cheek from his pillow and what looks like a smudge of ink at the corner of his jaw, but he gives up on trying to make the marks disappear in favor of finding his boots and tugging them on.

There are a few people headed towards the dining hall, some clutching books and notepads, desperate to squeeze in as much time studying as possible. The term is almost over, but the first year has been more of a refresher for Leonard. The practice he worked at before leaving home had been somewhat rural, but there was still enough alien visitation that general anatomical knowledge of the major races was required of every medical student. It is an advantage Leonard refuses to lose and as a result, many of the nights he has spent studying were for reading ahead, preparing himself for the nightmare that will be his second year.

As he passes through the common room, he spies his lab partner from Thursday, and he slows down, comes to stop before the young Betelgeusian. Apologizing is not something Leonard is very good at, despite the extensive practice he got in it during the last few years of his marriage. His tone is gruff, his mouth pulled down in a tight frown.

“Look, I, uh—I just wanted to say sorry. For yesterday, in class. I was—anyway, I’m sorry. If you want to request a new partner, I won’t be angry.”

The Betelgeusian shakes its head, mumbles out something about everyone having those kinds of days and skitters away, leaving Leonard baffled. He shrugs, tries not to concern himself too much and continues on his way, careful not to make eye contact with anyone else. Apologizing is not the same as inviting conversation, and sorry as he is to have caused another being genuine distress, Leonard isn’t ready for any actual interaction.

The cafeteria is a cacophony of conversation, dining ware battles and chairs dragging against the floor as their occupants move about. It’s jarring, has Leonard gritting his teeth as he stands in line and by the time his tray is full, his headache from earlier is back with a vengeance. He stacks as much as he can onto one plate, tucks a bottle of water under his arm and ignores the man telling him he can’t take his food with him. It’s all part of turning his attitude around, not being in a room full of people he can barely tolerate when he feels himself slipping into rage mode.

Dinner is an unappetizing meatloaf paired with salad, and it does little to change Leonard’s outlook on life. He dumps most of it in the garbage after a few bites, bored and anxious in turns. He tries Jim’s comm again, and when he is met with silence once again, determines that Jim has turned the damn thing off.

“Must be a hell of a night,” Leonard says, needing to break the quiet. He knows for a fact Jim doesn’t have class right now, and there’s no way in hell he’s studying on a Friday night. Chances are high Jim is out on a date; it’s the only excuse Leonard can come up with to explain Jim’s continued absence. The thought of being left alone to stew on yesterday’s meeting with the captain is an unhappy one, so Leonard falls back on his usual time filler: a tumbler of Scotch and, sadly, a textbook.

****

*.*.*.*

If Leonard thought it was hard before, feeling so out of place inside himself, it is infinitely worse when he realizes that Jim is very much ignoring him. Not even just avoiding, because that implies at some point they’ve occupied the same space and Jim bailed. No, this is far more definitive than that. This is Jim’s comm giving nothing but empty air, his dorm room unused and his usual haunts abandoned. Not even Jim’s roommate has seen him in the last few days, but when Leonard voices his concerns to Captain Pike, he is met with the reassurance that Jim is attending classes and as such is very much alive and well. It is more of a punch to the gut than a relief to hear that, but after the third day of no contact, Leonard boxes up the hurt curling in his belly, shuts down the part of himself that can’t help but hope and throws himself into his studies.

It sucks.

Leonard left home with a backpack and a small duffle, all that was left to him after Jocelyn’s lawyers were done ripping him to shreds, but in the time since he met Jim, Leonard has started collecting— _gaining_ —things. Shot glasses from examination celebrations, a silk stocking from a rather intense night involving two Caitians, himself and Jim that Leonard recalls only in blurred snapshots. There’s a cowboy hat on top of his lamp that Jim insisted Leonard wear when they crashed a professor’s wedding. Leonard woke under one of the tables at two in the morning to Jim shaking his shoulder, one of the bridesmaids sound asleep on his chest. Along the windowsill are a line of unopened liquor bottles, standing tributes to the first blowjob Leonard ever received from a man. That night, Jim’s eyes glittered in the dim light from across the room as he watched, arm flexing as he jerked himself inside his trousers, and that—that is what truly stands out in Leonard’s memory. Not the unfamiliar scratch of beard burn against his thighs, but Jim staring at him through the dark, getting off on watching Leonard come apart.

Everywhere Leonard looks he sees some sign of Jim staring back at him, unwanted reminders of what is currently missing from Leonard’s life. It’s as though one of his limbs has been severed and now he’s got to relearn how to get through life without it. If that’s even possible. Just under a year and Jim managed to get under Leonard’s skin in a way no other, Leonard’s daughter aside, ever could and if his relationship with his beloved Joanna is anything to judge by, then his friendship with Jim was doomed from the start.

Unable to stand the dark thoughts threatening to smother him, Leonard pushes away from the table where he’s spent the last hour learning the anatomy of a very non-humanoid species whose name he can’t even wrap his mouth around and drops down onto his bed. His trusty bottle of Scotch is empty, long-since drained in an effort to fill the void Jim’s absence has left. His chest aches and he can’t remember the last real meal he ate. Possibly breakfast on Monday. So, two days ago. He thinks maybe he should eat something but the very idea of putting something in his stomach makes him queasy and he rolls to his side, despondent. When staring at the wall is no longer satisfactory, he closes his eyes, lets go of whatever it is that is keeping him awake.

Leonard is drowsing when a knock comes at his door, a sound that takes him several long seconds to realize is part of the real world and not the dream he’s been lost in for half the day. He struggles out of the depths of sleep but gives up on clearing his head, just calls out hollowly,

“Come in, but don’t expect me to get up.”

The door slides open with a quiet whoosh, followed by the sound of soft footfalls. Leonard cracks one eye open to see a pair of regulation boots beside his bed and grunts out a hello. In the next instant, his vision is filled by Jim Kirk’s worried face and all the breath leaves him, violent and painful.

“Jim?” Leonard shoves himself up on the bed, unsure whether he should grab the bastard by the shoulders and shake him or check to make certain he really is okay. Trust Captain Pike to have lied about Jim being okay when he was actually lying in a hospital bed sick with Andorian Shingles.

“I’m a terrible friend, Bones. I—Jesus, Pike had to drag me out of the library because I was so caught up in—hey, Bones, shit, are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

Leonard’s eyes narrow. “I’m just fine, thank you. I’m no wilting daisy, I was dealing just fine.”

The skin at the corners of Jim’s eyes crinkles, and he grins at Leonard, bright like a child and not at all like the grown man he’s supposed to be.

“If it makes you feel any better, Bones, I promise you were on my mind the whole time.”

“It really, really does not. And you need to shave; you look like a barbarian.”

Jim laughs and stands up, grabs Leonard by the elbows and tugs him up as well. He doesn’t let go right away, and the sick, dead feeling that’s been eating away at Leonard for the last six days disappears as though it never existed. Jim is right there before him, real and solid and not off somewhere trying to cut Leonard out of his life. The relief is so sudden, so intense, that Leonard stumbles as he gains his feet.

“Well, I’m glad you pulled your head out of the books long enough to pay me a visit,” he says, gruff, to cover just how pleased he is.

The fingers gripping him tighten and Jim tuts, his tone more sincere than Leonard has ever heard it be as he says, “I’m sorry. No excuses, Bones. That was shitty timing on my part. I tell you what, first order of business: food.”

“They won’t let you in the cafeteria looking like that,” Leonard says for the sake of arguing.

Jim’s lips curve up. “Shows what you know. Come on, you look like you could use a real shower as much as I can.”

As Leonard moves to gather up the necessities, he notices the duffle by the door and makes a low noise in the back of his throat, gaze darting over to where Jim is poking through the stacks of notes on his desk.

“Going somewhere?”

Jim looks back over his shoulder, shakes his head. “Like I said, I’ve been, uh, studying, so it seemed more efficient to just take a bag with me.”

Leonard wrinkles his nose, puts another foot or two between them because the smell emanating from Jim makes a lot more sense now. He’s glad they’re in separate departments in the academy and feels a vague sympathy for the students forced to share their breathing air with Jim’s stench.

“The least you could have done is shower first.”

“Pfft. Seeing you was my priority. Come on. I’ve got one clean uniform left and almost everyone in your dorm is at dinner, so no one will care if I shower here.”

Leonard trails after him as Jim heads for the bathroom. The floors alternate: the single-bedroom floors share a bath, while those who have roommates have an en suite as well. Leonard is fine with the communal bathroom if it means not having to worry about his bed being violated, a complaint he’s heard a lot from some of the younger cadets. Jim, however, voted for having to only share a bathroom with one other person and takes a good few minutes to just poke around, unimpressed by the simple set up.

“Right, you want the first one?”

“Nope, I prefer the one at the far end.”

They strip down, but Leonard moves slowly, waiting for the moment Jim turns on the shower. A smug smile tugs at the corner of Leonard’s mouth and he has to tamp down to keep from outright laughing as Jim yelps and starts swearing when the water doesn’t heat up, and a second later, the shower is shut off and Jim re-emerges to seek out another.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You could have warned me.”

“And miss the show?”

All previous showers for the last week were perfunctory. Get in, wash up, get out. Stress and unhappiness made it impossible to relax, to just soak up the heat, but now that Jim is just three stalls away, Leonard finds the heaviness in his shoulders lifted. He takes his time washing, tips his head back against the cool tile and just lets the water pound out the tension in his body as he stands there.

Jim’s face appears in the space between the curtain and the wall, freshly shaven, his brows arched high and gaze fond. “Are you part merman and never told me?”

Leonard turns the hose and douses him with a scowl. “Can’t a man just enjoy a shower?”

“Sure he can, but when he’s been enjoying his shower for almost forty minutes, his friend might start to wonder if he’s drowned. Or jerking off…”

Jim is quick, but Leonard is faster. He darts forward, catches Jim by the elbow and drags him into the stall. Once Leonard’s got him pinned in place, he shuts off the hot water. It’s worth the cold shower just to hear Jim’s shocked squawk.

The sound of someone else starting up a shower is their signal it’s time to leave. They re-emerge one by one, grinning like kids at play as they towel off and pull on clean clothes. Leonard aches to drag the idiot in for a hug and is relieved when Jim does it for him. He folds himself into the embrace as he almost never does and lets his fingers dig into the meat of Jim’s shoulder for a moment before pulling away.

“You’re all right, kid,” he says.

Jim laughs, waves him out of the bathroom and leads the way back to Leonard’s room. Inside, he sprawls out on the bed, arms tucked beneath his head, and says, far too casually,

“I think we should get out of town for the weekend. We’ve got Monday off, you don’t have classes on Friday and I’ve been good enough in mine that missing one day won’t hurt my grades.” He pauses, gaze thoughtful. “I know a decent place not too far from here and I know for a fact there’s still room on the noon shuttle.”

Leonard drops into the chair beside the bed, frowning. “Look, kid, I’d rather drive five hours on that bike of yours—”

“Not enough room for luggage. Short-distance shuttle, Bones, not out-into-space-death-and-darkness.”

Jim grins and dodges the kick aimed at him as he sits up. “No, seriously, it’ll be great. We can hang out, not feel pressured to study and just…escape. You know?”

It’s tempting. Too tempting to pass up, even though Leonard has a hunch that ‘hang out,’ is not exactly what Jim has in mind. There will probably be at least two heart-to-hearts about things Leonard would prefer to ignore, but not even the threat of vulnerability can diminish Leonard’s desire to get away from everything, hopefully himself included.

“All right, but I reserve the right to veto strip clubs.”

Jim side-eyes him but makes no move to defend himself. “Good. Now, I’ve got class, so I’m off, but I’ll meet you back here for dinner? I swear, the med-student dorms have better food than the rest of us.”

Leonard sees him out, then returns to his desk and the mountain of homework awaiting him. He feels rejuvenated, ready to take on the world, so he digs out the textbook on Kazarite anatomy, sits down, and prepares himself for a few hours of energized studying.

****

*.*.*.*

By the time Friday rolls around, Leonard is of a mind to tell Jim on second thought, no thanks. They’ve hung out a few times, but whenever Leonard brought the trip up, Jim changed the subject. Unease is a tight rod between Leonard’s shoulders, pulling them back, making his movements stiff. Backing out isn’t an option, though, not if he doesn’t want to find himself drugged and carried out fireman-style as Jim did four months ago when Leonard refused to celebrate his twenty-ninth birthday.

Aggrieved by his reticence, Leonard drags his duffle bag from the wardrobe and tosses it onto the bed. To date, he still owns the same two pairs of jeans, four button-down shirts, four undershirts and two weeks’ worth of boxers and socks. Academy life doesn’t require much in the way of civilian clothing as discounts are given at the bar when you arrive in uniform. He doubts they’ll go anywhere fancy, but just in case, he reaches for the newest uniform and begins folding it up. Just as he moves to pack up the rest of his clothes, his comm crackles to life and Jim’s voice filters through.

“Hey, I forgot to tell you, just pack your uniform. I’ll cover the rest.”

Leonard snatches the comm from the desk and makes sure to hold it close to his mouth so Jim will have no chance of mishearing him. “You’ll—what the hell is that supposed to mean!”

There’s a brief silence, then Jim says, voice far too calm, “It means that I’ve got clothes covered. Just pack your uniform and maybe try not to scowl so much. You’re getting wrinkles.” He disconnects before Leonard can reply, leaving silence and apprehension in his wake.

With one last glance at his mostly empty duffle bag, Leonard begins the long process of putting his clothes back. A small part of him is worried about why Jim doesn’t want him to pack clothes, but he trusts Jim, hopes this doesn’t mean they’re going to end up at some nudist beach because that is a bit more than Leonard thinks he can handle in his current state.

Worst case scenario, he finds a store and shops for new clothes.

He’s just straightening up his desk when Jim knocks, and the door opens without further ado. Like Leonard, Jim is dressed in civilian clothes. His black t-shirt is snug, his jeans fitted and the leather jacket he’s wearing looks new. Leonard is wearing pretty much the exact same outfit he wore the day he stepped aboard the shuttle in Riverside, and he feels a wave of nostalgia as Jim sizes him up.

“You ready to go?”

“Define ready,” Leonard snaps, rubbing at the back of his neck.

They lock up and head down to the main level where a transport is waiting for them. The drive to the shuttle is spent in tense silence, and by the time they board and take their seats, Leonard has worked up quite a bit of nervous energy. Twice, Jim’s hand settles on his knee and pushes down until Leonard’s foot is flat against the ground. He keeps up a steady stream of jokes he’s learned over the years, leaning in to whisper the dirtier ones directly into Leonard’s ear and successfully distracting him from the world passing beneath them.

The motel Jim checks them into is a hole-in-the-wall without also being a dump, and Leonard finds himself okay with sharing a room. There are two beds, a small full bathroom and a replicator should they choose to eat in. Leonard ducks into the en suite to splash water on his face, and when he comes out, it is to find a large bag on the bed designated for Leonard, so non-descript it gives of waves of ominous foreboding. Jim is watching him from the chair by the desk, expression unreadable, and Leonard swallows hard before reaching for the bag.

The truth of the matter is Leonard has always felt a bit odd. Not all the time; at least sixty percent of the time, he is just fine. But sometimes he feels torn in two, like there’s another person residing inside him that is trying desperately to get free only to be trapped under the ungiving stretches of muscle and skin. Once, when he was feeling desperate and brave, he tried to explain it to his then-wife, Jocelyn. It was a mistake he needed only to make once and as he takes in the contents of the bag, something twisted and ugly swells up in his belly. It’s the night Leonard realized his marriage wasn’t going to survive all over again, only this time, it somehow seems worse, like he’s about to lose something even more vital than the woman he swore to love until death do they part.

Leonard closes his eyes, steps away from the bag and says, uncertain, terrified and sad, “Don’t you do this to me, Jim. Not you, too.”

Silence follows his whispered plea, broken at last by the creak of the chair and the soft rustle of clothing. Leonard doesn’t open his eyes when strong hands wrap around his shoulders, tense and angry that he is being cornered like this. Jim’s voice is distant at first, half lost in the roar of his pulse in his ears. Then the words begin to filter through, quiet and firm and without judgment.

“—to me, Bones. Whatever it is you’re thinking, I _would not_ do that to you. It was an educated guess and I’m sorry I did it this way, but Bones... This is Jim Kirk you’re dealing with.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leonard snarls the words, eyes snapping open. He is more hurt than anything else, but anger has always been his first defense.

“It means, of everyone, there is nothing you should ever have to hide from me.”

Leonard shrugs off the hands still clasping his shoulders, puts a bit more distance between him and Jim and breaks eye contact. It’s a struggle to keep the bitterness out his tone as he replies.

“I don’t even know what you want me to do with that.”

The bag rustles, and when Leonard shifts his gaze in that direction, it’s to find the contents spread out over the bed, mocking. His face heats and his hands clench into useless fists at his sides. The worst part of seeing it all laid out like that is the obvious care with which each article of clothing was chosen. He can almost picture Jim as he must have appeared as he stood in the women’s consignment shop: brow furrowed, lip caught between his teeth and utterly uncaring of the curious looks cast his way.

“Look, I screwed up my opening argument, but you haven’t punched me in the face or laughed it off. So I’m going to take that to mean, shitty delivery aside, I’m not way off base.”

The laugh that comes crackling out of Leonard is harsh and grating. “No, Jim, you’re about as far off base as you could get. I ain’t punching you because I’d just have to fix you afterward and I ain’t laughing because this is the same shit Jocelyn pulled when I—when things got weird for me back then.”

“Bones...”

Leonard sighs and steps away, puts almost half the room between them and sags back against the wall. He feels utterly defeated and a little heartbroken, but there is not a single doubt in his head that Jim will keep his secret. Things will be tense for a while, they might even spend a few weeks apart, but once Leonard convinces him it’s all a mistake, that _that_ is definitely not the problem....

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. I wouldn’t—I won’t judge you and my opinion of you won’t change.”

“Dammit, Jim, that’s not the goddamn problem.” It’s barely a conscious decision. The glass is sitting right there on the dresser beside him, and all the rage, all the hate that has been building up inside him spills over, pours out of Leonard and shatters against the wall in thousand pieces of glittering glass.

Jim doesn’t so much as flinch, but his gaze darts to the side, notes the decimated cup and the safe distance between it and him and smiles. He looks so self-satisfied, Leonard wants nothing more than to punch him. He doesn’t, but only because his daddy taught him three things that have stuck with him to this day: 1) a man never raises a hand against the person he loves, for any failure or wrong doing on their part stems from his own actions and words; 2) a man’s first task in life is to ease the burden the women around him bear for they are the reason he exists; 3) a man leaves women to their ways and their things for he has no business inhabiting a woman’s world.

And therein lies the root of all Leonard’s problems. Since the day he was born, it’s been drilled into his head what it means to be a real man, and those standards, those expectations he never asked for, are in complete contradiction to the way he sees himself some days. He is shamed by his inability to feel at home in his skin and tries desperately never to focus too hard on the thoughts that pass through his head during those vulnerable hours just before sleep and in the earliest parts of waking. Doesn’t think about the dreams he has where he’s standing over a patient, laser scalpel in hand, but it isn’t him, it’s her, this other person hidden inside him who has Leonard’s face but not, and Leonard’s sharp wit but she— _she_ … Leonard wants to kill her, smother her down until she doesn’t exist anymore, until she’s no longer tainting who he is.

He isn’t aware of the words coming out of his mouth, only knows he is speaking because he can hear his voice, rough and uneven, torn apart by too many emotions to keep at bay any longer. Leonard is standing on the edge of a cliff and any second now, he’s going to tip over into the abyss and be lost forever.

“Bones, you don’t have to hide her or kill her or even—or even give yourself up. It’s—what you’re feeling is normal. Maybe not where you come from, but in a lot of other places, amongst those in the Federation, it isn’t wrong or immoral or bad.” Jim moves in close, his hands unbreakable vices on Leonard’s shoulders. “I did some research on your Georgia suburb and I think I understand. I didn’t know people could still be so ass-backwards about the human mind and body, but Bones, we’re not all like that, especially at the academy. You have this ‘keep it to yourself’ way of living, but you’re shutting yourself off from so many different things, things that could impact you positively.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, kid,” Leonard snarls, trying to yank free of Jim’s grip. When that doesn’t work, he contemplates planting his fist right smack dab in the middle of Jim’s face.

“Not from a personal level, no, but Bones—not being just one gender doesn’t make you less of a man or less of a human being. It makes you complex, sets you apart, but you’re still you.”

Leonard shakes his head, closes his eyes because he can’t see all that genuine reassurance and unrestrained caring without losing his shit completely.

“It’s not—Jim, please, you don’t get it. It’s not—I’m not that way, okay. Whatever you think is wrong with me—”

The fingers clenching at his shoulders tighten, dig bruises into his skin as Jim gives him a rough shake.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Bones, and I swear to god, if I could go back in time and kill the person who led you to believe that, I would. You’re not wrong. You’re not an abomination or whatever other crap was fed to you way back whenever. You are Bones, my best—and only—friend, and I don’t care if you’re male, female, neuter or whatever the hell other gender identities exist out there. The essence of who you are isn’t changed. When I need patching up after a fight, you’re the only person I ever consider going to because I know I can trust you. That you’ll put me back together and make me realize what an ass I’m being.”

That has Leonard’s eyes snapping open. “Is that what you brought me here to do, Jim? Put me back together?”

Jim shakes his head. “No, this time—this time we’re just doing a little reshaping, making room so you can breathe and live and stop hating yourself so much you take it out on everyone else around you.”

This time, when Leonard pulls back Jim lets him go. His throat works, but no words come as he sinks down to sit on the floor. Jim settles down beside him, a comfortable weight pressed all along Leonard’s side, content to wait this out. Leonard takes a breath, ignores the hitch when he exhales and closes his eyes again.

“When I—when I was nine, I—” He stops, swallows, then pushes on. “My mother left a pair of her high heels out and I didn’t even think about it when I slipped them on. I’d felt so strange for the last few days, like none of my clothes fit quite right, but when I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself, I just…” He shrugs, not sure how to put into words what he had felt that day. “Then my father came into the room and all he had to do was look at me to have me scrambling back out of them. He didn’t say anything, and I was careful after that, but when I was fifteen, he caught me putting on lipstick.

“A friend of mine, Sue, liked to doll me up. She’d spend hours trying out various shades of shadow and blush on me, would line my eyes and darken my lashes. Neither of us thought much of it, or at least I didn’t, but the day my father caught me sitting in her room, face made up and her silk robe wrapped around me, he just about lost his shit. I thought he was going to beat me to death, but after he made me wash up and change, he took me out to a bar instead, sat me down at a booth and told me what it meant to be a McCoy… a real man.

“After that, whenever I’d…get that way, I’d feel sick about it. I was a mess, sometimes just for a few days, other times for weeks. The part of me that felt _right_ back in that room with Sue was ashamed and I just…I stopped. I told myself it was all in my head, like some sickness that could be cured if I found the right treatment.”

By the time Leonard reaches the end of his speech, all the fight has gone out of him, leaving him drained, emotionally and physically. Leonard’s throat feels raw, his chest achy, but he also feels _relieved_. There is no part of him not exposed to Jim right now, no last shred of secrecy and it’s so goddamn nice not to have that burden resting on his shoulders alone anymore. Beside him, Jim is silent, but he doesn’t move away, gives no sign of the betrayal.

“And when you saw the bag?” Jim asks at last.

“I made the mistake of telling Jocelyn about Sue. In her defense, I didn’t explain why I let her dress me up, and Jocelyn’s family is even more ‘old country’ than mine. Every time we fought, it was the first thing to be flung back in my face, and when we divorced—” The words break off, lodged low in his throat.

“And when you divorced, she used it to prove you were an unfit parent to your own daughter. Jesus, Bones. If I could make her disappear for good and get away with it, I would,” Jim swears, fervent.

It’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said in Leonard’s defense in years, and it startles a genuine laugh out of him. He tips his head back against the wall, blinks up at the ceiling through the moisture in his eyes and sighs.

“It’s not all her fault, though. When I’d get “that way,” I was unbearable. Nothing she said or did helped and I would put in longer hours at work just so I wouldn’t have to face her. We got married because we thought we were in love, the end-all-be-all kind of love that makes Romeos and Juliets out of idiots. By the time we realized we weren’t, she was pregnant, and we decided to make it work. At first, she really did try, but towards the end… we were hateful bastards, the both of us, Jim.”

“That’s because she didn’t understand all of who you are, Bones. You were scared to let her in completely and let’s face it, your hometown is a minority of old school traditions that should be exorcised from history books. Most people have come to accept the many facets of the human gender and sexuality. Most alien species as well.”

Leonard shakes his head. “It’s not that simple, Jim. All Jocelyn’s anger stemmed from her not feeling like I was the man she married, and in a way she was right. I was something less than that, half what she—”

“Half nothing, Bones. You’re two whole parts that just happen to share one body. You’re not less. If anything, you’re _more_ , and I for one am looking forward to meeting your other self. Look, we’re booked through for the weekend with no plans other than to stay in and let you have a chance to be you. If you’d rather I leave, I’ll do it, but Bones, give her a chance, okay. Just—just try it and if you absolutely hate it, if she isn’t what you’re looking for, then I won’t bring it up again.”

It’s on the tip of Leonard’s tongue to refuse, to somehow deny that this is a discussion they’re even having, but he wants even more. Just wants, pure and simple. Wants to not feel trapped, to not feel like he’s being torn in two. Wants something tangible to associate with something that has only ever been a feeling, an unexpressed thought.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Leonard says, honest and open.

Jim stands and offers reaches out a hand, dragging Leonard up onto equal ground. He keeps hold of Leonard’s hand, rubs a calloused thumb over whitened knuckles and replies in the soothing tones of someone taming a wild creature.

“Let’s start with your name, ease you into this from the inside out. What is your name? Your _other_ name,” he adds when Leonard starts to reply.

“I don’t—I have no idea? How do I even pick one?” Her voice filters through the surreal haze filling her head, confused and a touch frightened. Softer than it usually is, an unconscious acceptance of what has been offered.

“Don’t think me too forward,” Jim says, smiling, “But I did a little research. I was looking into older, more traditional names, like Bernadine.”

Leonard’s face twists up in disgust and Jim laughs.

“That’s about how I thought you’d feel. I kind of liked Clementine, but then I looked up the definition of Leonard. It means ‘brave as a lion.’ I searched for names with similar meanings and came up with Lee, which means ‘lion.’ What do you think?”

It’s perfect. It fits in a way nothing else ever could and when Leonard’s eyes close, he can feel Lee right there, hovering just beneath the surface and waiting for her chance to emerge. It’s... It is impossible and terrifying and too damn easy, with Jim standing so close, both his hands wrapped around Leonard’s. Leonard gives over then, let’s Jim coax this new woman out and like that, Lee is right there, jubilant at being free, at being allowed to be, and it’s like waking up in a pool of sunshine. When she breathes, the air feels lighter, and she can look down at her hands and not feel angry or sad or hated.

“That’s—Jesus, Bo—Lee. You’re amazing. C’mon, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Lee startles at the sound of her name, and shies away when Jim tries to draw her away from the wall. The flex of his fingers around her own is calming, and with only a shade of trepidation, she follows him over to the bed and the treasures it holds.

Lee doesn’t open the bag straight away. It’s all still a little daunting, being here like this; a reality rather than a denied existence. Jim doesn’t push, though. He lounges back on a corner of the mattress and waits her out, close enough to touch, but not enough to the threaten her personal bubble. She can’t find adequate words to say thank you, but she knows he understands. Jim—Jim is her constant, and as she learns to blend these two parts of herself together, to stop thinking of herself as separate entities and just two different points of view within her own body, he will be right there with her.

It is that assurance that gives her the courage to dip into the bag. Under Jim’s watchful gaze, Lee picks up each article of clothing, turns them over in her hands and marvels at all the various textures. There’s nothing she outright hates, the clothes tasteful, distinctly feminine without being overly flowery. She’s still learning about herself, about what she likes and dislikes, but she knows that’s not her style.

“I don’t know what to say,” she says at last. She winces at the gruffness of her voice, touches a hand to her throat before hastily dropping it.

“I met a woman at the first shop I went to. When I stopped by on my way out of the mall, she let me in on a few secrets, things you can do to lighten your voice that still sound natural.” He smiles up at her, earnest and pleased. “Start with the undergarments in the black and red bag. There’s a helpful little sheet on how to get them to fit comfortably.”

She peeks inside, finds the piece of paper and withdraws it. As she reads it, she can feel her face heat. “Oh.”

Jim sits up to cover her hand with his. “I tried it out. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but after forty minutes or so, I could almost forget about it.”

Lee side-eyes him. “You tucked your dick and wore lady’s underwear?” She asks, voice flat with disbelief.

“It’s how I learn and it helps me to understand some of what you’re going through. I’m not bigender, but I’m also not threatened by wearing women’s clothing or tucking my dick. Plus, it was an interesting experience.”

He says it so evenly that it’s easy for Lee to believe him. She looks back at the step-by-step notes on tucking and nods. There are five pairs of underwear in the bag: three pairs of microfiber boy-shorts, two of them edged with lace, and two pairs of high-cut microfiber panties. There are also a couple of bras, to be worn with the breast forms located further down in the bag. Underneath those is a roll of medical tape and one of the high-tech hair removers that tends to be favored in salons.

Jim nods toward the bathroom. “If you need anything, holler,” he prompts.

Lee shoves everything back into the little bag, gathers up the larger bag, and takes all of it into the bathroom. She shuts and locks the door, then dumps out the contents of the bag onto the counter. There’s a small bottle of oil with a label that claims it will help with the removal of the medical tape, and several jars of body butter: White Citrus, Sensual Amber, Vineyard Peach, and Moroccan Rose.

Her first order of business is ridding herself of excess hair. She’s pleased that her body isn’t overrun with it, and what’s left, she doubts she’ll miss regardless of who she is. She starts at the bottom and works her way up until she’s done all she can see and reach, she flattens out the note and begins the uncomfortable process of tucking. Only when she is secure inside a pair of boyshort panties does she unlock the door and peek out into the bedroom.

“I, um… my back? I just—I’ve never really paid much mind to that part of my body, and I didn’t check myself—” She breaks off, uncertain.

Jim is quick to stand, and he follows her into the bathroom. His gaze slides over her, appreciative but not sexual, unthreatening. “You look good, Lee,” he says. His hands are warm and gentle as he brushes them down her back. “Not a lot of hair, just a smattering.” He reaches for the hair remover, works his magic, then smoothes a hand over her back once more. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

She thinks he’ll leave then, half wants him to because she’s not quite ready yet, but then he’s holding up something that looks like a bra but isn’t. It curves down in the front, but the bottom has no shape, and she stares at it, puzzled.

“It’s to create cleavage,” Jim says.

Despite how matter-of-fact his tone is, Jim’s cheeks are pink, not exactly embarrassment, just discomfort. Lee thinks maybe it’s the implications of what he’s holding, then true understanding dawns and she knows exactly what it is.

“You tried it out. Tell me I’m wrong,” she dares him.

The color highlighting Jim’s cheeks darkens, but he doesn’t deny it. “Like I said,” he replies. “It’s how I learn. I’m a hands-on kinda guy. The instructions are pretty good. There’s, uh, also the option of just using cosmetics, but that was all beyond me, so.” He shrugs, still blushing, but smiling as well.

“Jim, I don’t—”

“If you want help, I’m offering, that’s all. But if you’ve got under control…”

Lee is ninety percent sure she could handle it herself, but Jim is right there and he’s willing and it feels so good to know how much he wants to help her that she finds herself nodding. He hands her the band, then holds it in place as she does up the hooks and gets herself settled into place. The change is immediate, and she can’t help but grin down at her chest.

“There’s a set of, uh, breast forms, too,” Jim says. He nods to the discreet box lying upside down on the counter. “They’re self-adhesive with detailed instructions. I’ll just—I’ll leave that part to you.”

He slips out of the room with a one last smile, and though she’s glad for the privacy, she misses the comfort his presence brought. She shivers, then reaches for the bag of clothes and begins sifting through the various outfits, finally settling on a pair of jeans folded up at the cuff, a black tank top and a cream wrap-around knit top. Her disappointment at the lack of shoes lasts only until a knock comes at the door, and she opens it to see Jim standing there, sheepish.

“Sorry, forgot about these.”

He holds up another large bag, and in this one she finds two pairs of ballet flats and a box of earrings, bracelets and necklaces. She grins, giddy at the thought of dressing up her otherwise casual outfit. When she deems her outfit complete, Lee turns to face the mirror, able to overlook the plainness of her face and her unflattering haircut because everything else—everything else is—

“Perfect. You look stunning.”

Jim stares back at her when she meets his gaze, sincere and proud. He reaches out and Lee doesn’t flinch as he strokes a hand over her cheek.

“I didn’t buy cosmetics or a wig. I figured those were a bit more personal.”

“You bought me _panties_ , but you thought a wig was more personal?”

She’s teasing, but Jim’s expression goes serious as he explains, “Everyone wears underwear at some point, but how you do your hair… if you’re comfortable with the idea, there’s a shop not far from here. No one there is going to pay any attention to you or judge you, no matter what you’re wearing. They want to get on with their lives just as much as you do.”

“But getting to and from—”

“Is a non-issue. There’s a long coat and a wide-brimmed Sunday hat in the closet. You can go incognito.”

“And you wouldn’t think I’m a huge coward?” Her voice wobbles just a bit as she asks.

“We’re here. You’re here and you’re you, now and then. You’ve allowed me to see this part of you. How could I ever think you’re a coward after all that?”

Lee exhales, nods, and says, “I haven’t really changed in your eyes, have I?”

“Not the essence of you. You’re a woman, sure, but you’re still _Bones_. Your gender, how you identify—those don’t define you. They’re just a part of you, same as being a doctor, having hazel eyes and brown hair. How you express them…those are facets of you, and which persona you present, they are both my best friend.”

Jim’s words are so simple, so plain, that they shouldn’t carry weight. They do, though. Lee hears them, processes their meaning and feels her heart expand. She leans back against the counter, closes her eyes and says, “I think I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dark-Dreymer: Participating in this challenge was a new experience in the art of podficcing for me. Typically in creating podfic, the reader presents their own interpretation of the words like an actor creating their own performance from a script. Working with the author as I was recording was, to continue the simile, like having a director present. While I'll admit that this was at times frustrating (and I may have flounced off to the figurative trailer a few times), having insight into the author's intent of the story helped shape my understanding of the narrative. This, along with several thoughtful critiques of my first draft, definitely improved my final recording. So I would like to thank FaeryQueen07 for working with me on this challenge and I will strive to carry forward the advice she gave me in my future efforts at podfic.


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